Mindy

I know it's weird to see a post on this all-but-abandoned blog, but there was a major event in our lives this weekend, and I feel the need to put my feelings about it down in writing. So, if anyone actually reads this, bear with me. It's being written solely as an expression of grief. I'm sure it'll be corny and some will say crazy, but I hope it will manage to express a little of how I really feel.

Hi Mindy.

It's been a couple of days since we sent you on your way, and I have to say, we really miss you. I just hope you and your bestest buddy in the whole world, Max, have found each other and are enjoying chasing each other around that big ol' backyard in the sky. I remember how much you guys used to really love chasing each other. I know you missed Max a lot when we had to send him on his way a few years ago. For most of your life, he was your constant companion and friend, and I can't even imagine how hard it must've been for you when he left us.

Well, this weekend, it was your turn to leave us. As much as I knew it was time for you to go, I wasn't as prepared for it as I thought I was going to be.

For a long time now, you've been showing your age, and it has been hard for us to watch. We hated seeing it happen to you - the hard time you had standing up, sometimes falling while just walking across the floor, being terribly sick occasionally to the point where you could barely hold your head up, being nearly totally deaf and blind. Even though you were bravely fighting through all of that, you still had some occasional sparks of life, and it didn't seem like you were quite ready to go. But then you got so sick on Friday. The vet said you had lost 4 pounds in less than a month (after losing about that much the month before), and you were so weak. It didn't seem fair to make you suffer like that any longer, even if we had been able to get your nausea under control.

So, we made the decision to let you go. As hard as it was to make that decision, I thought I was ready to do it. I didn't want to watch you failing a bit more day after day. It didn't seem that there were many days left on your downhill journey. If only you could have spoken and told us you were ready to go.

But you couldn't, and we had to try to make the right decision for you. Even though I was confident that we had made the best decision we could, I admit to having some doubts when my memories of our nearly 15 years together came crashing through my tears as I held you in the vet's office and you slipped away.

I remember when you were just a sparkle in my eye - I knew your mother's owner, and since Max was such a great dog, I was thrilled when Anna Belle's (your mom's) owner suggested that we let Max and Anna Belle spend a few days together. A few days later, we found out that you were on your way. You ended up being born on my sister's birthday, which just added to our excitement. I was allowed the "pick of the litter," and I picked you. When I came over to pick you out, you were the one who immediately came up to me to say hi. You always were a friendly girl!

It was pretty much love at first site. I didn't even consider any of your brothers or sisters. I chose you. It's hard to believe that was nearly 15 years ago! The years went by fast!

I won't say that I sometimes in those early days together, I wondered what I had gotten myself into. From the moment I put you in my car, all the way back to our house, you sat in the floorboard and screamed at the top of your little baby basset hound lungs. You kept it up for hours later after we got home. Even when I called my parents to tell them about the new addition to the family, you didn't stop crying. At least they were able to hear their new grandpuppy.

Your growing up years were a bit of a challenge, too. There was the time you stole my jeans off the top of my dresser, chewed a hole through them, got my wallet out of the pocket, destroyed it, ate a $20 bill, and forever dented my drivers' license with little puppy tooth marks. I really wasn't happy that day. But, I secretly laughed a little every time I had to pull that darn drivers' license out of my wallet after that. Even a cop noted that I "must have a puppy at home" when he asked for my license while writing me a speeding ticket.

Then there was the time you completely destroyed the brand-new irrigation system I had just installed in the backyard. Turns out, you just loved those little rubber tubes sticking up out of the ground. Didn't matter what I did to convince you otherwise, either. Even when, in desperation, I coated them with Tabasco sauce, you weren't deterred in the least. I soon learned to just give up on the idea of having an irrigation system.

It wasn't all bad, though. You were always the sweetest, most loving little girl I could imagine. You used to love to snuggle up in my lap (while you were still lap-dog size) and fall asleep with your nose tucked down between my arm and my body.

You were a clown, too. It was hilarious when I'd look outside and see you sitting like the queen of the world in the giant flower pot on the patio. Basset hounds just aren't supposed to sit in flower pots, but you seemed to enjoy it. Same with the time when I had taken you to my parents house and they saw you walking across their window sill. Basset hounds aren't supposed to be able to even fit on a window sill, but you somehow managed to. You were kind of cat-like back in those days.

As wild and crazy a puppy as you were, you mellowed out quite nicely with age. I think although you missed Max a lot when he left us, it seemed like you really came into your own as "an only dog." You seemed to enjoy all the attention that didn't have to be split anymore. Even though you enjoyed that brief period, you amazed me at how well you accepted Ed's cats when we moved into the new house. Not that you particularly liked the cats, but you were very tolerant of them.

You adjusted OK with the cats, but you definitely were not very happy the day we brought your new little brother, Toby, home for the first time. The look you gave me that day is forever burned in my memory. You were most definitely not a happy dog that day. But, even then, you managed to overcome your disappointment and actually started enjoying playing with Toby. Maybe not quite as much as he enjoyed it, but you did pretty well.

You were always a little skittish about some things. You absolutely hated the ironing board. (I'll be forever sorry for trying to get you over that irrational fear by making you sit on one.) You didn't like brooms much either. As you got older, you started to really hate thunderstorms (which was kind of a challenge here every August!). You got to the point where thunder and lightning and wind and rain caused you to get all pacey and to nearly hyperventilate.

As annoyed as I got some of those nights when you kept me from sleeping, I also used to feel a real sense of satisfaction when I could get you to calm down and fall asleep. Usually all it took was letting you up in the bed with me, with my hand gently patting your head or your tummy while you relaxed and finally fell asleep. I always enjoyed being your protector and the one you could count on to make things better.

I think that's why I took it so hard on Friday when I couldn't protect you any longer. You were counting on me. You were kind of scared and you knew something was happening that you didn't much like. And I couldn't do anything to make you feel better. When you stuck your nose down between my arm and my body again, looking for the comfort that you used to find when you were a baby, my heart broke just a little more.

I'm sorry I couldn't help you feel better and that I had to send you on a new journey, but I hope that at least you found Max and the two of you are happily rollicking around and annoying a new set of neighbors with your happy barking!

We miss you!